


Love In Sin City

by mybeanieandme



Category: Bright Young Things, Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, Campiness, Falling In Love, International scandal, Las Vegas, Love at First Sight, M/M, So much campiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/pseuds/mybeanieandme
Summary: Miles's parents think it might be good for him to spend some time in America while a scandal blows over. He happens to be staying across the street from the hotel at which Peter Vincent's show Fright Night is doing 8 shows a week. Sometimes love comes at you fast like a vampire in the night.





	1. Room With A View

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this piece of fanart [HERE](https://durchinmultiverse.tumblr.com/post/185521680170/quick-doodle-base-from) durchinmultiverse on tumblr. But instead of it being Aziraphale and Crowley looking like those characters I just made them those characters because I thought it might be delightful if the two campy drama llamas met in real life. 
> 
> It's set in modern day instead of the 1930's like Bright Young Things. Miles is still the son of the Prime Minister but he's not fleeing the country for being nearly arrested for being gay- instead he might have slept with someone he should not have slept wiiiiith. I've made Peter Vincent pansexual in this and- yes. I understand he's probably more of an "illusionist" technically but calling him a Las Vegas magician is so much fun. 
> 
> The Wynn hotel is 100% my favorite if you couldn't tell.....

Las Vegas turned out to be his favorite place. It hadn’t started out that way. When his parents suggested (forced) an extended vacation in America to get him away while a potential scandal blew over he hadn’t expected to end up here. Las Vegas lacked the class and easy elegance of New York City and the extravagant new wealth of Los Angeles. One of his (innumerable) famous LA friends had offered to take him to see the middle of nowhere that was the bright lights of Las Vegas and he hadn’t expected to stay long. 

That was until he fell in love- not with the city itself but with him. He hadn’t ever actually gone to one of his shows during his now three week long stay in the city but he enjoyed all of the adverts, especially the forty story picture of his face on the hotel conveniently across the street from his own. 

The show was called Fright Night. Peter Vincent, magician extraordinaire, fought off voluptuous vampire vixens eight shows a week while performing incredible illusions. It was camp and goth and Miles loved every little bit about the aesthetic. 

So when he’d invited the local news to one of his famous (or perhaps infamous) lavish parties at the Wynn, he hadn’t thought much of a reporter asking him questions or himself responding. Did he have a crush on Peter Vincent? I mean who wouldn’t. 

It took 14 hours for it to spread from the Encore to the Excalibur- but there he was on the telephone the next afternoon (the absolute earliest he would wake up) to clarify his remarks- he doubled down.

“When I said it was a crush I meant he was my husband, of course,” Miles announced to local television and the hosts smiles gleefully.

“If we ask him to corroborate will he agree,” asked an extremely blonde woman with too much foundation on.

“I don’t think my man is the type to kiss and tell,” Miles winked at them and the bit ended with them all in a fit of laughter. Because they all knew, as everyone in Vegas did, Vincent kissed everyone and told everyone. 

It took 4 hours for it to spread from the Encore to the Excalibur. By the time Peter Vincent was prepping his earlier Saturday night show, fans wanted to know if it was true.

“Is what true?” Vincent asked, completely unaware.

“If you’re married to that Miles Maitland guy who is also from England,” elaborated a kindly lesbian and her wife who flew all the way from Salem just to see him.

“Oh,” Vincent answered. “Well- I’ve never met the man before but he’s always welcome to come see one of my shows.” 

He put on his biggest grin and leaned in between the couple as a photographer snapped a glossy flash photo.

Peter Vincent knew of this Miles Maitland only by reputation. He was the son of a British diplomat (maybe a prime minister? Vincent hadn’t paid much attention to politics in the motherland since he’d been hiding in the colonies) and rumor had it was he was- away on “vacation” because he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. He threw huge parties that celebrities wouldn’t miss. They were exclusive and invite only affairs. Vincent has never scored an invite but he had never actually tried because he did not care. 

“Do you mean it?” One of the women asked and she had her phone out, looked like she was recording something. He looked quizzical at her. “Is Miles Maitland invited to your show?”

“Of course,” Vincent waved a beckoning hand. “If he dares to stare into the face of death and Satan himself!” He finished it with a menacing cackle and they giggled gleefully at him and left so they could take their seats for the show.

And Peter Vincent forgot all about it until the next morning.

He awoke to the sound of his publicist beating down his door, or trying to. It was still vampire level proof (like the rest of his house.)

“PETER!” She cried, muffled from the other side. “Answer your goddamn door or your phone or both!”

“What?” He asked angrily throwing the door open causing her to almost fall forward from the momentum of her next knock.

“THE MORNING NEWS PROGRAMS ARE COVERING IT! YOUR NEXT TWO WEEKS OF SHOWS HAVE SOLD OUT COMPLETELY!” His publicist was waving three different local papers in his face and her cellphone as she scrolled through the now trending twitter hashtag. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” Vincent exclaimed as he was intimated back across the living room and into his favorite chair.

The newspapers rained down on him like the heaviest of confettis. His name was in the headline above the fold for the first time since he’d finally gotten his name up in lights in the city of sin twelve years ago. 

“INTERNATIONAL SIN CITY ROMANCE?” Asked the title of the article. “Are resident magician Peter Vincent and British playboy Miles Maitland in a committed relationship?” 

“I’ve never even met the man!” Vincent exclaimed seemingly in response to the newspaper.

“No, but you’re going to! I’ve saved him two seats at tonight’s show!” His publicist started.

“I thought you said the shows were sold out,” Vincent’s sleepiness had found him again as he nestled into the chair.

“Yes, except for the two seats for him and a guest! That was excellent thinking goading them on like this! Free fucking publicity!” She beamed, “You can’t manufacture or buy something this good! Now get dressed- we’re arranging for him to meet you backstage before the show. We want a photographer there to capture the buzz!”

“But-,” Vincent tried to interrupt but she was already on her way out the door.

He fell back asleep.

Miles was on the golf course when he’d received a call from Vincent’s publicist about the two tickets she had reserved for him and a guest. It didn’t happen right on schedule per say but he wasn’t surprised when an unknown Vegas area code phone number appeared on his phone. He was setting up a drive on hole six when Cher’s Believe blared from his phone. He and his celebrity friend who was definitely not not Ezra Miller turned to the golf cart skeptically. No one was awake this early in Vegas after a night like last night. In fact, Miles was still up from the night before. He was wearing the same gaudy maroon velvet outfit and had only changed his shoes for the occasion. He had been watching the hashtag increase its position in the trends and waiting patiently. 

“Do you fancy a trip to a magic show this evening?” Miles asked his friend when he’d hung up the phone.

“How enchanting,” his friend beamed at him.

They called their game off early in light of the events and headed back to the suite to take a well deserved nap.

Several hours later, the wake up phone call they had requested rang through to the room. Miles sat bolt upright. 

“Time to get fabulous to meet my future husband!”

Nothing beat a dark blue crushed velvet suit and a mink. Sure, it was hot outside but it’d be much hotter this evening when he attempted to seduce the magician, and he needed his most powerful outfit to do so. 

Doors opened at 9 PM sharp but around 8:30 PM Miles and his friend were being escorted backstage by a larger group of security than usual. It would have appeared that someone tipped off the press to Miles attendance of this evening’s performance and the crowds were beginning to gather and clog the entrance to the stadium and spill over into the high-roller area. 

Vincent only had just gotten his wig in place when his publicist rolled up with two dashing looking people. One of them, Vincent was sure, was an actor that he’d seen in something but he couldn’t quite remember what and the other was the campiest person he’d ever beheld, and he knew camp. He was a Las Vegas magician for Christ’s sake. 

“You must be-,” Vincent started.

“Peter Vincent!” the campy man talked right over him while ogling both his naked chest and then his leather pants. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. I’m Miles Maitland. This is my friend.”

He waited for the friend to be given a name but the friend was not given a name. “Well- welcome to my corner of darkness,” Vincent said, putting on his stage persona. 

Miles clapped gleefully. This wasn’t the reaction Vincent was used to and he had to fight a smile as the excitement seemed genuine. “How many beautiful vampire maidens will you slay tonight?” Miles asked.

“As many as try to slay me,” Vincent quirked an eyebrow and Miles literally clutched at his chest. 

“So brave,” Miles said, biting his lip, both hands now going to the fur draped over his shoulders. It took everything within Peter Vincent’s power to not get an erection which would have been quite noticeable in his tight leather pants. Who the fuck was this guy? With his puppy dog blue eyes and his pouty bottom lip. 

“Why don’t you come see me after the show, crumpet?” Vincent found himself saying, completely unaware he was until the words were already out of his mouth. 

Miles’s mouth quirked up on one side, as if he knew this would happen. 

They took their seats just before the show began to avoid being hounded by people in the audience, which Miles would not have minded as he did love to gossip but the security seemed to think it was a bad idea. 

The lights went out and the crowd cheered. A single spotlight shone on a dark curtain, it parted just far enough and Peter Vincent emerged. Much to Miles’s dismay he’d put on a shirt this evening, which he’d heard tell was a special occasion thing- which- then again. Could he dare to dream the shirt was for his own benefit? It was almost as frilly as his own. 

“Welcome, unsuspecting mortals,” Vincent’s voice filled the room. “Beware for evil lurks at every corner- you never know what dangerous and sexy creatures you might meet in the dark.” 

The spotlight went out but Miles and, judging by the reaction from the crowd, everyone else saw the very public wink Peter Vincent threw in Miles’s direction. There was gasping and despite the explicit signs stating no flash photography- phone cameras were alight, trying to catch the fleeting moment. 

The black curtain dropped and with a red flood light the show began. 

It was mesmerizing in every detail. Miles could not have dreamed of the level of ridiculousness from the scantily clad women to the fog machines to the satanic symbols projected onto the ground. 

The whole thing was enchanting and Miles wished he could watch it over and over. 

Vincent was standing by his dressing room table wiping generously at his face with a moisture wicking towel when Miles was escorted back to see him. He was without his quiet and nameless friend this time. 

“Did your friend ditch you?” Vincent asked.

“Oh, no,” Miles flashed a smile. “They were invited to a party tonight at Caesar’s Palace by David Guetta.” 

“That sounds about right,” Vincent nodded. “You didn’t want to go?”

“I had a much better invitation I think” Miles raised his eyebrows salaciously and Vincent had to smirk. 

“Did you like the show?” he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and watched Miles watching him.

“Very much so,” Miles moved closer to him, he still had that fur wrapped around his shoulders and Vincent wondered how he could stand being so hot. It was hot in the room, wasn’t it? I mean especially after that performance. It had absolutely nothing to do with the man standing in front of him, no. “I was worried when the third vampiress tried to cuff you to the bed with those chains but I should have known you’d escape.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice with those cuffs in particular,” Vincent said, finally throwing his towel back on his dressing room table and instantly regretting having nothing to do with his hands now. 

The smile that spread across Miles’s face was wanton and hungry. “Keep a set for yourself to practice?” 

“You want to have a drink with me up in my flat?” Vincent offered as way of response. 

“Only if you’ll let me bartend,” Miles answered already walking towards the exit, a beckoning finger ushering Vincent along. 

He made them a pair of Midori sours as Vincent removed his show accoutrement. Heavy rings, chains, and fake facial hair falling away, his wig long forgotten downstairs. 

Miles looked smitten as he handed him a glass. “You can see your face much better this way,” Miles said approvingly. 

“You like my face?” Vincent asked, sipping the _incredibly_ strong he had been handed. 

“I like every part of you,” Miles told him earnestly. 

Vincent chuckled. “You haven’t seen every part of me.”

“Yet,” Miles quirked an eyebrow and took an extra long sip of his drink through the smallest straw, letting the word linger. “The night is still young.”

They were making out hot and heavily before their second drink on one of the leather sofas, Vincent still in his stage clothes. 

“Have you slept with all of your vampires?” Miles asked between the lazy kiss section of their make-out session. 

“Yes,” Vincent hesitated before seeming to think twice about his next kiss. 

“Then you’ve got lots of condoms on hand?” Miles tipped Vincent’s chin up so their lips were aligned again.

“Definitely,” Vincent nodded forcefully (as forcefully as he could for impact keeping in mind how closes their faces and therefore heads were.)

“Are those handcuffs you mentioned in the bedroom then?” Miles stood up all of a sudden, grabbing Vincent’s hand and pulling him along. 

Miles hardly registered the bed as Vincent lifted him up and sat him on the lowest dresser, lips meeting again. He needed to touch him everywhere. His hands went to the mink around Miles’s neck. 

“It’s not real fur, is it?” The magician asked letting his fingers run through it as he removed the article of clothing and laid it gently over the nearest chez lounge. 

“Of course not, darling,” Miles replied as he started unbuttoning his own very ruffled shirt, “And have those PETA crazies after me? Are you mad? Only the finest faux fur that money can buy without looking too garish.”

“Who even are you?” Vincent asked as Miles then started on his ruffled shirt. 

“I’m the magic you’ve been looking for all along, darling,” Miles said and wrapped his arms around him and propelled them towards the bed.

Their lips met and Miles’s hands started to peel Vincent’s leather pants off. The task became more difficult the lower he got as his arms couldn’t quite reach and his hands wanted so desperately to touch Vincent’s cock. He settled on rutting against him slowly causing the magician to moan. 

Vincent, for his part, had decided Miles’s neck needed more accessories than the faux fur and necklaces he’d come in with and so he bit him and marked him up as Miles purred beneath him. 

When their cocks touched Vincent wished so much he hadn’t been wearing leather pants as he wanted to be inside Miles right that second. 

He pulled away quickly and kicked his pants off violently before pouncing back onto the other man. 

Less than a minute later he’d turned Miles over and was working him open. Miles was like putty in his hands, pressing back eagerly into his fingers as he moaned obscenities. 

“You sound so pretty for me,” Vincent coed and he bit Miles on the ass. 

He fucked him hard. He made note of how well he thought his cock looked sliding into Miles’s pert ass and the dimples at the base of his spine were so cute.  
They rattled the headboard and nearly took the sheets straight off the bed. Miles was responsive in a way that Vincent craved and was vocal about his likes and dislikes as he coached Vincent into his favorite position. His skin was soft and salty and Vincent wanted to bite every inch of him. Vincent came so much sooner than he wanted to as Miles’s bright eyes bore holes through him. Miles’s lips parted and Vincent captured the moan that escaped him with his own mouth as Miles came between them. Vincent’s mind went blank as he came hot and hard into the condom, losing completely the last thing he was wondering about, which was whether or not the cupid’s bow middle of a lip had a special name and if there were awards for having perfect upper lips because surely this one was one. 

“My god you are a glorious fuck,” Vincent gasped after the longest pull of water. He had fetched a glass for both of them as Miles sat looking completely wrecked in the carnage of their love making. 

Miles giggled, placing a single finger coyly on his bottom lip. “Little old me?”

Vincent nodded enthusiastically and set the glass of water down, suddenly needing to kiss the spot on his lip he’d just pointed to. 

“You’ve not seen anything yet.” Miles smiled into the kiss and pulled Vincent back into bed and rode him like a stallion.

“Christ,” Vincent moaned and all he could do was hold on. Onto Miles’s hip and the headboard. His cock was sore from before but god almighty he wasn’t going to ask Miles to stop. He fucked like it was an Olympic sport he already had all the gold medals in and was just proving a point now. He rolled his hips and clenched just right and the magician came with a cry. 

“God, you’re like a beautiful angel come to exorcise this demon,” Vincent mused at him between kisses in the shower not ten minutes later.

“More like exercise,” Miles purred And scrunched his nose in a way that made Vincent want to bite him all over again.

“Exercise indeed,” he agreed and pushed Miles up against one of the many tiled shower walls and gave him a new hickey.

They ordered room service up and sat in front of the window looking out on the strip. “You can see my hotel room from here,” Miles pointed vaguely towards his hotel before his hand found a more productive vocation in stirring his morning Bloody Mary.

“Did you look over at this hotel just to stare at my face, my angel?” Vincent asked jokingly.

“I masturbate to your forty story head at least twice a day,” Miles answered with complete conviction. 

Vincent attempted not to cough his lungs out as he inhaled sharply too close to his coffee. Miles patted and rubbed his back as they reclined to watched the city fall slowly wake up as they finally decided to go to sleep.

They had breakfast again when they woke up eight hours later. 

“So tell me about yourself, Miles Maitland,” Vincent ventured. He was bad at small talk. Especially in bed. He was good at flirting which he always felt like was a form of small talk but he did not understand the human decorum required to get to the questions he really wanted to ask.

“What would you like to know?” Miles asked. “I’m an open book. Or- well at least- the tabloids portray me as such.”

“Paparazzi fond of you, then?” Vincent tried to ignore the way that Miles nestled in closer under his arm as he nibbled on a piece of bacon. 

“Afraid so,” Vincent could feel him roll his eyes. “Son of the Prime Minister is always subject to extra scrutiny.” 

“Bunch of uptight wankers,” Vincent sighed as if he had a similar experience. “Country full of prudes.”

Miles glanced up to meet his eyes. “They really are,” his eyes were glossy and shining. 

“Americas not much better,” Vincent supposed. 

“No, but it’s a lot more fun,” Miles smiled softly.

His face changed as something seemed to occur to him. “Am I- over staying my welcome?” He looked around almost embarrassed, “I realize you probably have things to do and places to be.”

“I really don’t,” Vincent shook his head. “I’ve got the show tonight but I’m-,” he fished for something a reason for Miles to stay. He supposed there wasn’t one other than the simple pleasure of his company. “Please stay.”

Vincent kissed him then nice and soft.

When they decided it was time to leave bed and put clothes on, Miles phoned and had an outfit brought from across the street. It was a tartan three piece suit complete with a pocket watch and pocket square.

“Do you always dress like that?” Vincent asked as he rolled deodorant on before slipping into a simple black T-shirt and black jeans.

Miles raised an eyebrow, “No. Only when I’m not fucking.”

As they left together they took note that the three newspapers left on the doormat all had the photo neither of them realized had been taken when they met the day before. 

“We do look cute together, don’t we?” Miles looked fondly at the pair of them. 

“You’re cute,” Vincent assured him.

Miles rolled his eyes but was smiling. He lead them to the service elevator which lead them to the car that drove them across the eight lanes that divided their hotels. 

They spent the rest of the time they had before Vincent’s next show walking around the Wynn and Encore looking at very large and very expensive art pieces. Vincent was unsurprised to learn that Miles was an aficionado of the arts. Miles was unsurprised to learn that Peter Vincent fictional vampire slayer had actually killed real vampires. The revelation came as they sat for drinks at the classy bar that looked out on the golf course of Miles’s hotel. It was the very end of the lunch rush and they had a quiet corner by a window.

“You believe me?” Vincent looked amazed.

“I’ve been in your apartment, darling! It’s full occult in there,” Miles giggled. “Las Vegas is as good a place as any to be a vampire. Even better I suppose- people staying up all night and things.”

Vincent’s expression was unreadable and Miles was afraid he had said something wrong. But then Vincent was leaning across the table to kiss him and that was the second photo of them published in the paper together.

At Vincent’s show that night, Miles remained backstage as scores of fans had arrived with copies of the evening edition of the newspaper to sign. Miles met all of the vampiresses and they were all absolutely fabulous. 

“Don’t let him fuck you,” said the first one he met by way of greeting. 

“He’s a lousy lay anyway,” a second one added but she offered her hand to shake and a smile. “I’m Vanessa.”

“Vanessa the vampire! That’s fantastic,” Miles put his hand in her own and curtsied instead. “I’m Miles Maitland.”

“Are you really the Prince of England or something?” asked a third as she approached. 

“Something like that,” Miles smiled at her. 

“Oi, OI!” Vincent’s voice came from nowhere. 

“Don’t crowd the man,” he was drenched in sweat from the long leather coat, hot stage lamps, and magical exertion. 

Miles clapped enthusiastically for all of them as Vincent joined the circle. “Bravo! You were all wonderful tonight.”

The women beamed at him, happy for the praise but didn’t seem to want to hang around with Peter Vincent there. 

“I’ve got to go as well I’m afraid,” Miles told him. 

Vincent looked hurt but then adjusted his face. “Of course! I mean we’ve been together twenty-four hours nearly I’m sure you have things to do.”

“I have a friend’s birthday tonight, unfortunately. I’d bring you along with me but I’ve got a platonic plus one,” Vincent wasn’t hiding his disappointment very well. “Can we brunch tomorrow?”

“I’d really like that,” Vincent nodded. 

“Good,” Miles smiled with all of his face. He peeked around to see if anyone was watching but it was mostly behind the scenes crew milling about and putting things away. He kissed him gently. “I shall miss you.”

“Just look out your window,” Vincent said, “I’ll be watching you.” He shot him a wink and Miles was gone. 

His apartment felt very empty when he got back. It usually felt empty but this was an extra level. Maybe he needed houseplants or something. Or a someone that made this feel like home…

“You look like someone stole all your booze,” his publicist’s voice gave him a start.

“Christ, I hope not,” he sauntered over to the bar and poured himself more than twice the usual amount. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” she said. And he waited for her to continue. “What are your intentions with Mr. Maitland.”

“What, are you his mother or something?” he crunched an ice cube haughtily. 

“No,” she rolled her eyes at him, “But I am _your_ publicist and I need to put out fires and ideally prevent them. If Maitland is just your flavor of the week that’s fine but sales are booming and I need to know if you plan on-.” She couldn’t find the word.

“Fucking this up?” Vincent asked.

“So to speak,” she shrugged. 

He slumped dramatically onto the sofa and caught himself thinking about how he bet that would make Miles giggle which made him smile. 

“Oh my god, you’re in love,” she sounded genuinely shocked. 

That shocked him straight out of his daydream. “Excuse me?!”

“You are! You’re in love! I saw that face. You’re smitten!” it was more accusatory than he’d liked when he himself had just realized that she was right. He hadn’t even thought about it but being away from Miles for even ten hours was going to absolutely kill him. 

“YOU’RE RIGHT!” he exclaimed. “I AM! But I’ve just realized it now and it’s new and I need to talk to him, alright?”

She softened at this. It wasn’t common to get a genuine emotion out of Peter Vincent but at this moment he looked close to total mental breakdown. 

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “He’s an important part of the equation and it’s still new.” She headed out but lingered in the doorway just long enough to say. “Let me know immediately when you know.”

He sipped his drink.

Miles called him precisely at 10:30 AM. 

“I like hearing your voice first thing in the morning,” Vincent told him without thinking.

Miles chuckled. “You really are the sweetest thing you know?”

“Come ‘round mine,” Miles instructed, “I’ve reserved seats for us at the Mad Tea-Party!” Vincent had learned the day before that that was what Miles called the buffet breakfast restaurant at the Wynn. 

“Be there soon,” Vincent had his keys in his hand and was out the door. 

They took brunch at an exclusive dinning room, sitting opposite sides towards the head of a table that easily could seat twenty comfortably. 

“I just love it in here,” Miles shimmied his shoulders as he buttered a piece of toast. “Makes me feel like Alice.”

“We’re all mad here,” Vincent quirked a smile and an eyebrow and Miles absolutely dissolved into a fit of giggles. Vincent’s heart leapt. God this fucking sucked! What was he? Fifteen? He couldn’t even touch his food as beautiful as it was because his stomach was too full of butterflies. 

“Alice, queen of my heart?” Vincent decided he needed to face this head-on. 

“Yes, my dearest king?” Miles bit at his toast definitively. 

“What- what are we doing?” Vincent asked. He didn’t know any other way to. What are we to each other? Where does this go? What happens to us? Is it just sex? Is it for a joke? Is there more? Are we more?

“Do you believe in parallel universes?” Miles questioned him in return.

“You mean like- every time we make a decision- whatever decision we didn’t make becomes a new universe?” Vincent tried.

“Hmmm,” Miles looked intrigued as if that was something he wanted to think about later. “More like- what if in any iteration of any universe in which our souls would be born- they would find each other- and they would fall in love because they were meant to be together?”

“Like in another world- you really were an angel and I really was a demon you were sent to exorcise- we’d fall in love?” Vincent picked up his coffee mug to make an effort towards food.

“Precisely. I’d exercise the crap out of a demon version of you,” Miles beamed at him but turned serious. “There was something about you- as soon as I saw your eyes-,” his shoulders slumped, “it was like I had to meet you to know.”

“And what do you think, angel?” Vincent’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears.

“Well I’ve just met you and this definitely crazy- but I love you,” Miles’s hands gestured a graceful “this is literally all I have but it’s my heart so break it gently.”

“It’s not that crazy,” Vincent shook his head. 

Miles sat up a little straighter in his chair. 

“I think I might love you too, actually,” Vincent shrugged. Miles was out of his chair and moving to Vincent’s side of the table. 

“Oh, really?” Miles kissed him. They decided making out was definitely a good idea at that point. They kissed until Vincent’s brain finally connected a few dots. 

“When you told that reporter I was your husband-,” Vincent started.

“That was my very elaborate way of asking you out,” Miles answered. 

“Ostentatious. Arranging something between your manager and mine was too formal for you?” Vincent chuckled. He was impressed.

“An arrangement? This isn’t Fiddler On The Roof- I wanted something big and campy- like putting your face on a forty story building,” he kissed Vincent’s forehead square in the center. 

“What if we hadn’t sparked?” Vincent cringed at his own word. 

Miles scrunched his nose. “Then I’d still have fucked you for the story.”

“Don’t you mean you would have tried to fuck me?” Vincent raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, puh-lease,” Miles sighed exasperated. “In every universe you pick this bum, honey.”


	2. Deep Blue Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is never as neat as it is in a fairytale but when you love someone you try to make it work. Miles really loves his someone and they're definitely going to make it work. (It's just a lot of kissing and logistics tbh.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was just going to write them getting married but now we've got like two chapters and definitely and epilogue that will probably turn into a third chapter like let's be real.

When Miles suggested a winter wedding Vincent had spilled the martini he was holding all over his shirt.

“It doesn’t have to be winter,” Miles backtracked quickly.

“Wedding?” Vincent gaped, using his napkin to mop up little of liquid before resolving, much to Miles’s delight, to just remove his shirt entirely.

Right. Miles hasn’t actually brought that part up. He forgot that while they’d fallen in love like people do in films that this was not a film and there were conversations they had yet to have. He’d moved into Vincent’s apartment for the duration of his stay in Vegas but that time would have to come to a close soon. It had been nearly two months and everyone had forgotten about Henri. He had responsibilities back home. Charity events and campaign stops with the family. He hadn’t actually bothered to think of what he might want to do in the future. Like a job. 

They were seated at Vincent’s unreasonably large dining room table with thick ornate wooden legs and high-back chairs. Looking very much like the royalty they were. It was dusk and Vincent had a show to start in an hour. Everything felt so much cozier with Miles around.

“Are you not a marriage person?” Miles asked, his voice a neutral inquiry. It was one of the many things Vincent loved about him. Whenever he questioned something it was never out of anything other than a deep and genuine curiosity. Like every question had an answer and they could find it together. 

“I’d never actually ever considered it, honestly,” Vincent said as if he would start considering it from this moment on. “I know things are going to change,” he alluded to the many brief and fleeting conversations they’d had about Miles’s impending departure. “It’s just difficult to think about when you’re sitting here in my bathrobe- looking like a snack and eating all my cherry tomatoes.”

Miles was indeed reaching across the table to steal his third cherry tomato from Vincent’s plate. He looked bashful but popped it in his mouth all the same and then smiled.

Vincent smiled back. They did that a lot. Smiled at each other. It never got boring and Vincent was sure it never would. Even years from now when it felt like it might. 

“If ever I were to marry anyone it would be you,” he concluded finally and Miles was besotted. “I think it-.”

His alarm rang to indicate he needed to get to his dressing room.

Vincent sighed heavily and silenced it. “We’ll talk about this first thing after the show, yeah?” They both stood up and Vincent walked over to Miles’s side of the table to hug him and kiss his nose. “I promise.”

“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready- I mean if you need time,” Miles offered. “It’s not a decision to take lightly.”

“I know, my angel,” Vincent said and his second alarm went off. He had seven of them in increasing volume. They used to be for when he’d nap before a show and did not want to wake up. He’d had to keep them on as he spent a lot of time making out with Miles and did not want to stop. “You’re so sweet.” He kissed his lips and did not say- “But time is something we both know we don’t have.”

Miles took his now “usual” seat for the show. He’d been to as many as he could and he never got bored of them. Vincent winked at him, it had become part of the performance at this point and the show began. 

Earlier that week, Vincent had remarked to his publicist that he felt like the show had been going much better since Miles had showed up. The crowds were more engaged and the actresses in the show seemed to be happier and campier. 

“It’s because you’re not fucking them anymore,” his publicist had answered, not looking up from her phone. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about the vampiresses or the audience or just both. 

“Oh.” 

“They also are trying to impress Miles I imagine,” she has looked at him then. “He is enigmatic and they want him to like them.” 

“You do a lot of emotional labor for me, don’t you?” He had asked her almost rhetorically.

She had grinned devilishly. “Thank you for noticing.”

Tonight’s show was even better than the last. The fog seemed even thicker on the stage and the lights even brighter. When he’d levitated over the crowd they had gasped at all the right parts. He liked that part of the show best because he could spot Miles for a moment as the lights glimmered past him.

And Miles was there backstage to see him afterwards, applauding wildly for all the performers but especially him. 

“I think it’s too soon,” was the first thing Vincent said to him. “Marry me in one year.”

“One year from today?” Miles looked surprised and delighted.

“One year from today,” Vincent nodded firmly and Miles jumped into his sweaty sweaty arms. 

They barely made it to the elevator before they started taking each other’s clothes off. Hell they could barely see their way to the elevator as they made out with fervor. It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex while Vincent was wearing most of his stage makeup. It lead to some pretty sexy role play where Miles was either a damsel he had to save or a vampire in disguise come to seduce and kill the famous vampire slayer Peter Vincent before falling madly in love and madly into bed with him. Tonight he was neither. Tonight he was having sex with the man he loved right after they had agreed to marry one another. 

Vincent’s grip was tighter, more possessive. Miles felt so close and so loved it made his heart ache. He moaned deep in his throat every time Vincent’s hips snapped, cock pressing deep deep deep but not deep enough. Christ, he felt so good and thick and Miles wanted it like this all the time. 

He came with a cry all over the sheets, Vincent’s hips stuttering as he followed. Miles turned his head as far as he could for a kiss. Vincent happily obliged, holding his face with one hand and kissing him hard. 

The showered and popped a bag of popcorn as they watched a Guillermo Del Toro movie on HBO. 

“Tom Hiddleston is scrummy,” Miles said as he nestled in closer to his love.

“You think so?” Vincent asked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth. 

“I mean he’s not you- but I wouldn’t boot him out of bed for eating biscuits,” Miles giggled.

Vincent leaned in to kiss him.

“Angel,” he spoke softly just beside Miles’s ear. It was his way of getting Miles’s attention. Miles was a cacophony of boisterous energy and the best way to capture his focus, at least in Vincent’s opinion, was the softest whisper. 

Miles turned his head up to look at Vincent and smiled when their eyes met. “You’re very handsome, you know?” 

“I’ve been told,” Vincent shrugged. 

“I will miss your face when I’m away,” Miles told him so sincerely Vincent’s heart hurt. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” Vincent instantly agreed. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you sleep with anyone else while I’m away,” there was the sincerity again. “I promise I won’t be mad. You don’t have to tell me who-.”

“I’m not going to sleep with anyone else, my angel,” Vincent shook his head. “You’re it for me, yeah?

“I don’t know how long I have to be gone and I don’t- if you get lonely I don’t-,” Miles looked upset. 

“I’ll be lonely the second you leave me,” Vincent kissed his forehead. “And when it gets bad I will video call you and you will strip for me and touch yourself in all the ways I tell you to.”

The fear and upset in Miles’s eyes dissolved into something deep and primal, as if very dirty long distance Skype sex had not even occurred to him. “Oh,” he said softly and Vincent slid his long fingers in Miles’s short curls and tugged just hard enough to make Miles gasp. 

“You’re mine,” Vincent tugged his head back and bit his neck. “And I’m yours.”

The popcorn bowl tumbled to the floor, followed by the robes they’d hastily thrown on after showering post-sex. 

“I will ache for you,” Vincent said as he turned Miles over and pressed his body against the bed under the weight of his own body. He nipped the top of Miles’s ear and then his shoulder and kissed down his back. “My cock will ache for you and my fingers will want to grasp you everywhere.”

Vincent worked him open and fucked him slow and hard, leaving marks all down his back as Miles pressed his hips back greedily. “Mine, mine, mine,” Vincent moaned softly into his ear until Miles came hard with a choked sob. 

Vincent drew them a bath and they sat in the bubbles, Miles resting against his chest in the marble monstrosity built to comfortably sit six adults. Vincent drew lazy circles around a hickey he’d left on Miles’s shoulder as Miles hummed something that sounded to Vincent like Clair De Lune. 

Miles fell asleep and Vincent put him to bed, tucking him in up to his shoulders. He grabbed his cellphone from the nightstand and started towards the living room but Miles caught his arm. 

“Is everything alright?” Miles asked sleepily. 

“Always, my angel,” Vincent assured him, slipping Miles hand down his arm until their hands met and fingers intertwined. He leaned in to kiss Miles softly on the lips. “I need to make a quick call and I’ll be right back I promise.”

Miles smiled serenely and nodded and then nodded off back to sleep. 

Vincent poured himself a drink and sat back in his favorite chair as he pressed the first contact on his phone. 

It rang once. 

“What?” his publicist answered.

“How much longer do I have on my contract?” he asked.

“Seven months,” she told him almost immediately. He had expected to wait or for her to tell him she needed to check and she would call him in the morning. He looked at the time on his phone, well- later in the morning. 

“How did you know I was going to ask?” he started out at the hotel where Miles used to stay. 

“I followed the logic-,” she chuckled lightly. “Son of a foreign politician can’t stay here forever. I was wondering how soon I might be out of a job.”

“Hm,” Vincent hummed noncommittally. 

“You’ll let me know?” she requested.

“Of course,” he said mostly to himself. Of course.

Then he dialed one more number and exchanged three sentences with the person on the other end.

He hung up and left his phone beside his drink. He climbed into bed to take his rightful place as big spoon. 

Vincent stirred to the smell of coffee and bacon. By the distinct aroma of it, Miles had ordered sandwiches from the Eggslut at the Cosmopolitan. It wasn’t the first time he had. He just liked saying the name. “Darling, you want anything from Eggslut?” He had asked on more than one occasion. Or just “the slut.” 

When Vincent did not feel like opening his eyes this morning and Miles decided if he was going to become part of the bed Miles might lay on him as such.

“OOF,” Vincent groaned, now fully awake under the weight of Miles.

“You don’t complain about my weight when I’m riding your cock,” Miles teased gently lips pressed against his ear.

Vincent smiled, eyes still closed. “No one could complain about anything in the world if you were riding their cock, I guarantee it.” 

Miles chuckled and kissed him. “I brought you a slut sandwich.”

“I thought you might have,” Vincent cracked his eyes open to see Miles who was wearing one of his own ruffled shirts and a pair of mustard yellow bell bottom pants. 

“Breakfast on the couch?” Vincent suggested.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Miles agreed and carried the tray of sandwiches out with a reverence he normally only offered to foreign dignitaries.

They sat in a tangle of limbs together eating sausage and eggs and cheese on bread.

“Can I ask you something?” Vincent inquired as soon as Miles had taken an extra hungry big bite and could only nod in response. “Where did you imagine us living when we were married?”

Miles eyes went bright, wide and excited before something fell over his expression and he became more serious. He pretended to contemplate as he chewed. Vincent waited for him to finish.

“Selfishly I was hoping to repatriate you! I know your entire life and career is here but it would certainly be easier on me if we were there,” Miles looked slightly horrified at the honesty but he had to be frank.

Vincent was quiet for a moment. It did not seem to be anything he had not thought of. “I know me being a Vegas magician isn’t playing well-.” While the American tabloids were smitten with the couple, the reception had been less than warm back home. The announcement of their relationship publicly had dredged up the French presidential son scandal again which had bought Miles more time in America but the shock had worn off and people were confused.

“Nothing about this is, my dear, but they do not know us yet so how can we expect them to love us,” Miles shifted uneasily. “And even if they never do love us- I love us and that is all that matters.” 

Vincent smiled softly at him and extended a hand to run his thumb over Miles’s cheek just because he felt like it.

“Do you remember that vampire I told you I vanquished?” Vincent asked in his quietest voice.

Miles nodded, afraid he would sound too loud if he spoke.

“What I didn’t tell you was,” Vincent looked lost for a moment, “He killed my parents.” Miles looked stricken. “I was young and terrified. I haven’t been back to England since I fled in fear for my life.”

Miles had thick Studio-Ghibli level tears pooling in his eyes nearly on the brink of tumbling down his cheeks. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Vincent asked.

Miles nodded and blinked and the tears did roll down. 

“I’m scared so shitless to go back I don’t know what to do,” he looked at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand and set it on the coffee table.

Miles dropped his sandwich completely and hugged Vincent hard. Vincent felt the wetness of Miles’s face through his thin black t shirt. 

“It’s alright, love,” Vincent comforted him.

“No, it’s not bloody well alright. Here I am- wanting you to come back to England with me and there is just so much I don’t know about you,” Miles cried. “How terrible it must have been for you!”

Vincent stroked Miles’s curls. “I felt a lot better after I knew he was gone forever.”

Miles griped him tightly. “So so very brave.”

“And you make me even braver,” Vincent told him. “I want to try to go back. I want you there with me.”

Miles kissed all over his face. “Yes! Of course I will!”

“But-,” Vincent started.

“But?” Miles remembered to breathe.

“My contract isn’t up for seven more months- and I couldn’t possibly leave,” Vincent began.

“Of course,” Miles nodded, very seriously. “A gentleman always honors his agreements.”

“Some gentleman I am,” Vincent chuckled and Miles frowned at his self deprecation. “Point is- I need to be here until then.”

Miles nodded in earnest.

“Vegas wasn’t going to be a forever gig anyway- it’s a hard- people lose interest when you’re not the next hot thing. You’re not the next Christ Angel-,” Vincent explained.

“Who?” Miles asked.

“Exactly,” Vincent’s eyebrows went up along with a very sassy finger shake. “People do stints here- people do revival tours here. Maybe I can find the next step for me- creatively.”

“I’m sure you can,” Miles beamed at him. 

“I have a buddy works down in the West End,” Vincent continued. Miles body nearly vibrated with excitement. “Maybe there is a way to relocate to England.”

“But are you sure? I-,” Miles looked into Vincent’s eyes. “I want you to do what is best for you. If you truly don’t want to go back I completely understand. Orphaned at a young age by a nefarious evil fiend? That’s the tragic backstory of a superhero, darling.”

“Or a villain,” Vincent told him.

“You already slayed the vampire,” Miles chuckled wetly, tears still falling from his eyes. “You’re no villain.”

They kissed on the couch until Vincent needed to visit the restroom and then ended up taking a shower and putting his clothes on much to Miles’s dismay. 

“We’re going on a little trip,” Vincent was headed towards the door putting his wallet in his pocket and his keys in another. 

Miles looked at his phone. “It’s only 9:05 in the morning, my love. Nothing is open but the Eggslut.”

“Fear not, my angel,” Vincent gave him a wink and lead him down the elevator to the car that was waiting outside. 

The car drove for five minutes to The Forum at Caesar’s Palace. Miles looked skeptical but Vincent lead him out of the car all the same. They walked into a foyer of columns and escalators and closed storefronts. Vincent guided him easily through the dozens of sleepy tourists milling about waiting for the shops to open. It was all designer stores and restaurants ranging from a quick bite to a thousand dollar a course meal. 

Vincent stopped them outside of the Tiffany and Co. Miles looked at the darkened windows and smiled. “Shame we’re almost an hour too early-,” he started but one of the doors started to swing out. 

“Good morning, Mr. Vincent,” said a strikingly beautiful woman in a tight black dress. 

“Good morning, Deborah,” Vincent grinned at her and ushered in an awestricken Miles. 

“Did- did you go full Sweet Home Alabama on me?” Miles looked like he was going to cry for the second time that morning. 

Vincent smirked. “Pick whatever you’d like. You deserve an engagement ring that suits you.” 

Miles stood motionless as all the lights came on just like in the movie and a few more sales associates emerged to help him at whichever ring counter he might need. 

“Is it inappropriate to seduce you and have sex in here right this second?” Miles asked quite sincerely. 

The associates all laughed and Miles set to work looking for the perfect ring. It didn’t take long. The Tiffany Three Stone Engagement Ring with Sapphire side Stones in Platinum stole his heart almost immediately which didn’t surprise Vincent in the slightest. The sapphires were the same color as the suit Miles had been wearing on the night they met. 

“May I?” Vincent took the ring and slid it delicately onto Miles’s finger. It was too big, but that wasn’t a surprise. 

“You can pick the diamond cut and clarity you’d like and we’ll have the ring custom made and shipped to you-,” the associate had launched into a full explanation that followed up with them being able pick it up in-store when it was ready if they’d prefer. 

But neither was listening. 

“Will you marry me?” Vincent said cheekily as the ring dangled awkwardly large on Miles’s finger.

Miles kissed him. “Yes, please.” They kissed longer than they should have but no one stopped them. Not when they were about buy a ring with that price tag.

When they finally broke apart and made their finally color and clarity selections they walked to the nearest gelato shop for a scoop and another snog. 

“We are disgustingly touchy feely,” Miles informed Vincent as he reached his tiny spoon over to Vincent’s chocolate scoop. 

“I love it when you touch and feel me,” Vincent assured him, eating the gelato off of Miles’s spoon before he could bring it back to his mouth. Miles looked so offended Vincent was sure they would never speak again but they dissolved into a fit of laughter. 

“Will you get extra sparkly for me tonight?” Vincent requested as Miles was putting product in his hair after their post-engagement-ring-romp-in-the-sack shower. 

“Of course, my darling,” Miles flashed his most winning smile. 

And he was. He wore sequins and Swarovski crystals to put Elton John to shame. He took his seat and the lazy circling show lights kept catching him like a disco ball.

The lights dropped and the crowd hollered and clapped. The single spotlight fell onto Vincent and the crowd gasped. 

“Friends and fiends alike, welcome to where evil lurks,” Vincent purred and Miles fanned himself. Vincent was really putting on a show tonight. 

“Vampires stalk and demons tempt even the most holiest of souls,” Vincent pressed his hands together in prayer, bowing his head. “But what happens when an angel finds himself amongst the hoards of evil?” Well this was new. Miles thought. But before he could consider when Vincent had time to cast a new actor for his show the spotlight was on him.

“Who is this beautiful creature who has landed among us?” Vincent sauntered into the audience, offering Miles his hand and escorting him on stage. “What brings such a heavenly being to this den of sin and debauchery?” 

Miles’s brain short circuited completely. Vincent in his full vampire hunting regalia and persona made Miles want to absolutely rip all of his clothes off with his teeth. “Just your garden variety Principality I assure you,” Miles told the crowd as Vincent circled him. “I was tempted by a demon.”

The crowd ate that shit up, you could hear a pin drop as everyone waited with bated breath for what might happen next.

“So you really are an angel, then?” Vincent asked stopping just in front of Miles’s face. Miles smiled sweetly half in bewilderment and nodded. And then Vincent dropped to his knee and there was an audible gasp.

“Sweetest of all the angels, you have stolen my heart,” Vincent produced a box from Tiffany & Co. Miles clasped his hand to his chest. “Will you make an honest man of this demon?” He popped open the box and there it was. The ring he had picked out earlier this morning. The anticipation hung in the air much like the fog billowing off the stage.

“Yes,” Miles nodded and fought of tears for the third time that day. “Of course I will marry you.” Vincent slid the ring on his finger and he was completely unsurprised to find the ring fit his finger perfectly. That fucking prick. Master of magic and illusions indeed. 

Vincent stood up and kissed him chastely on stage, the crowd was applauding wildly. Vincent bowed. “My fiancé, Miles Maitland, everyone,” Vincent introduced and everyone started clapping even harder. Miles took a bow then and then they both did.

Vanessa the vampiress had to help Miles off stage as his body had gone completely limp with shock and giddy awe. How has he done it? How did the ring-? How?

“You okay, babe?” Vanessa asked him once they were in the wings. 

“Perfectly so, thank you for your kindness,” Miles smiled at her and she smiled back before rushing back on stage.

Miles watched the show from the wings and the happiness wore off to reveal something Miles had been dreading this whole time. Vincent caught his eye and when their eyes met his face fell but only for a moment. The show went on.

“I’m so sorry,” Vincent said immediately. “I could tell by your expression I’d done something wrong. I got carried away- I wanted-.”

“Something big and ostentatious,” Miles understood completely. “If you think for a second that wasn’t exactly I how wanted to be proposed to then we should call of the engagement because you don’t know me at all.”

Vincent looked relieved and then concerned again. “Then the expression-?”

“I haven’t spoken to my parents yet and I wanted them to hear it from me so I could control the story but- well-.” Miles shrugged. 

“It’s too late,” Vincent looked mortified. 

“It’s been trending on local twitter since you pulled me on stage,” Miles held up his cellphone.

“I’m so sorry,” Vincent hugged him.

“How dare you love me enough to announce our engagement to the world!” Miles mock scolded him. He smiled wistfully. “I can’t even muster the conviction to be angry because honestly both times you have asked me today, I felt like the luckiest man in the world.”

“That’s impossible,” Vincent shook his head. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. Because I have you.”

Miles’s cellphone rang as if God had a particularly poignant sense of comedic timing.

“Hello, mummy,” Miles greeted her warmly. Vincent only heard a shrill cry in response and they slunk upstairs sheepishly. 

“You can’t move your whole life to America,” it was the fifth time she had said this in the last hour.

“You’ve mentioned,” Miles answered calmly back.

“Are you doing this to punish us?” His mother asked, her voice audible pained.

“Punish you?”

“For forcing you out after you- well you-,” She stammered.

“Slept with the French president’s son?” Miles offered.

“Yes, that!” His mother hissed at him. 

“I’m sorry you find my love so embarrassing, mother. But that is what it is! Love! Pure and simple. I love him!”

“You can’t possibly love him! You have known him a week!”

“It’s been a month and a half, mother,” Miles corrected her gently and she huffed. 

“Week? Month? Makes no difference! I forbid you from marrying that- that magician!”

She was on speakerphone, sitting in the middle of the dining room table with Vincent and Miles on either side. “I’m sorry,” Miles mouthed wordlessly to him for the tenth time. 

Vincent chuckled noiseless and made a “water off a ducks back” dismissive hand gesture before taking another sip of his glass of wine. It was his second and Miles was on a third.She started ranting again, using words like “honor” and “dignity” and “reputation,” making it sound like they were the royal family or something. 

At the word “legacy,” Vincent watched Miles’s body language change almost completely and he sat up a little in his chair. He had had enough of this and it needed to end. “Mother,” Miles said in a gentle but unwavering voice. “I am going to marry the man that I love. You and papa can disown me if you’d like. But I imagine you will reflect on your so-called legacy and see that you are on the wrong side of history. Perhaps you could see it another way. Have your publicist spin the story that you, in your infinite wisdom and good graces you sent me to the colonies for reformation. You thought I needed to sow the rest of my wild oats-“ his mother made a noise of dissent at this “-and hoped I might make a good match there. You’d expected me to fall for some New World money in New York City but fate had other plans. Tell them all I fell for one of our own. A British man, who, down on his luck- an orphaned boy facing impossible odds- found his way to America and lived the true American dream. He picked himself up by his bootstraps and he is now an accomplished entertainer with a promising career. Tell them we were two wayward souls full of destructive habits that came together to domesticate each other in marital bliss. Tell them that, mother.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. “You really do love him,” Miles’s mother said finally. 

“I really do,” Miles assured her. “I am not try to embarrass you or seek revenge. He really is the love of my life and we are going to get married.” He cleared his throat as if whatever he was about to say next was physically painful. “I know we can spin this in a positive way. You and father can save face and you can see less of mine in the tabloids.”

“Ciao, darling,” His mother concluded the phone call. Miles slumped back in his chair. He looked up at Vincent for the first time in what felt like forever. 

Vincent was crying. It was the quite sort of cry you didn’t realize was happening until your face was dripping buckets of tears and your clothes were wet. Miles was kneeling beside him in an instant.

“Have I said something to upset you? My mother can be so cruel- I am terribly sor-,” Miles started but Vincent shook his head and pulled Miles up into his lap. They sat there like that for a very long time, Vincent just holding Miles closer than Miles would have expected. His jacket was sparkly and very sharp but Vincent didn’t seem to mind at all. He just nuzzled into Miles’s chest and breathed deeply, his lithe arms wrapped around Miles’s waist. 

Eventually, Miles managed to get him up, stripped of his show wardrobe (he was getting much better at that), and tucked into bed. 

“I know our road ahead is not easy,” Miles said quietly as he was once again wrapped in Vincent’s arms, this time naked as the day he was born with Vincent pressed behind him, his deep and steady breathing gently tousling Miles’s curls. 

“I’d face a hundred vampires for you,” Vincent spoke finally, his voice a little gravely from his extra extravagant stage performing and then crying. Miles turned in his arms to face him. “A hundred million vampires.”

“That’s ever so many,” Miles told him.

“You’re worth it,” Vincent kissed his nose. “And I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	3. Peanut Butter In My Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent visits Miles in London during their seven month time apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be an epilogue and I was wrong so here is another chapter. I hope the next one will be the epilogue but at this point I'm just convinced this is a nanowrimo situation and I'm going to end up with a novel. 
> 
> More film references in this one. Simon and Nina from Bright Young Things are there.

Their time apart was rocked only by minor scandal. Every time Vincent left his apartment with any human at all, it prompted people to speculate wildly on if he was cheating. The local news was lenient and almost cordial. But the international newspapers- especially The Sun (if you called that a newspaper) seemed keen on dismantling their relationship almost single handedly. According to them Vincent (who they had never written any articles about previous to his relationship with Miles but had done an extreme amount of digging into Las Vegas past news) was having affairs with everyone from his publicist to the post mates delivery person who had started bringing him his Eggslut sandwiches. 

Whatever was said publicly mattered very little to them as they spent most of their time sitting in their respective apartments and texting each other. In the evenings after a show, Vincent would lay awake with the iPad Miles had bought him with the express purpose of FaceTiming him doing just that. Miles would be sleepy in England on the other end, his iPad placed too close to his face to see anything but his eyes and nose. “The proximity of the iPad to your face does not equate my proximity to you,” Vincent had told him the first time they had done this.  
“I don’t care,” Miles declared and pulled the screen even closer and kissed the camera. 

This morning Vincent was watching Miles lazily stroke his cock. With the light streaming in just perfect. Vincent was reclined on his bed on a mountain of pillows, iPad between his thighs. His cock was hard beneath dark denim but Miles hadn’t earned a peek yet. 

“Please,” Miles gasped. “Please let me see your cock.”

Vincent stroked himself over his jeans. “Not until you moan pretty for me like I like.”

“Please-,” Miles’s hips bucked up into his hand in frustration. “It’s so hard when you’re not here to help me make those sounds.”

“What do you need from me, my angel?” His finger traced the outline of his cock and Miles nearly screamed.

“Need your fingers inside me- opening me up,” his cock was dribbling precum and Vincent was so grateful for the image quality of modern technology as the head of Miles’s cock bobbed closer to the camera. Miles moaned high in his throat. “Need your cock pressing inside me-,” his breath hitched, “Need you to slide inside me h-hard.” There is was, that pretty little cry he wanted, a little hysterical and nothing but unbridled carnal need.

Vincent unzipped his pants and fished his cock out.

“Fuuuuck,” Miles’s strokes became erratic as Vincent started touching himself. “Need your cock in my mouth.” His tongue traced around his lips and Vincent was completely undone. It took three more strokes for him to come hard all over the sheets, his barely missing the screen.

Miles followed quickly thereafter, head thrown back exposing that long stretch of neck Vincent hadn’t put a hickey on in three months. Every angle of his nose was perfect but especially this one. Christ, he looked like a pornographic magazine, it was obscene and Vincent’s cock twinged as it was convinced it definitely needed to come again after that.

“How are you even real?” Vincent sighed fondly, wiping at the sweat running down his neck and chest.

Miles giggled. “I don’t know how you lasted as long as you did but I appreciate it. I needed that.”

“You know I love to tease you,” Vincent smirked. 

Miles eyes were staring fondly and wistfully at his cock. “It’s been too long since we’ve been naked together in person.” 

“I know,” Vincent sighed heavily. “Only two more weeks until I come see you.”

“Thank god,” Miles was walking the iPad into the bathroom now setting Vincent by the sink. Vincent watched appreciatively as Miles turned around and bent to turn the shower on. 

“God, you’re so pretty naked I could cry,” Vincent told him. 

Miles smiled at him sweetly. “You should get some rest, my darling. I will call you later when I’m headed off to bed.”

“I’ll miss you,” Vincent yawned. “Jeez, you’re right I should sleep. I’m knackered.”

“That’s what a good orgasm does for you,” Miles puckered his lips at the camera.

“Have fun today at your party,” Vincent said as he caught the kiss Miles blew from 5,000 miles away.

“I will. Promise to tell you all about it,” Miles drew back the shower curtain. “Good night, my love.”

“Hmm,” Vincent nodded off. 

Miles stepped into the shower, leaving the FaceTime call open so he could watch his love sleep at least for a little while. He looked awful cute on his pillow mountain and very uncomfortable in his skinny jeans. But Vincent was part shapes and he could fall asleep almost anywhere. Miles had seen it. It was adorable. But goodness, those sheets were absolutely filthy. Miles opened his phone and ordered a maid service to go to the apartment tomorrow and then made note to text Vincent about it lest he be naked when they arrive.

He hung up reluctantly but not before taking an elicit screen-cap. His fiancé was the absolute prettiest.

“Mr. Maitland,” a knock came from outside his bedroom door.

“I’m nude, pet, what do you need?” Miles called out to his cousin. It could be no one else.

“We need to be in the car in ten minutes or else we’ll be late!” She called.

“We’re going to be fashionably late I’m afraid,” he said and he wrapped a towel around his waist before opening the door.

“Were you wanking again?” She asked brazenly as she entered the room like it was her own.

“I was mutually masturbating with my fiancé,” Miles corrected her.

“Did you take photos?” She asked eagerly. When he did not answer her eyes went wide. “CAN I SEE?”

“A lady would never,” Miles scolded. “His cock is for my eyes only, thank you.”

“Better hope that thing doesn’t back up images to the cloud,” His cousin said, sitting in a chair covered in different floral embroidered blazers. 

Miles laughed, “this isn’t amateur hour.” Then he frowned a little. “Especially after last time. They still won’t let me back into Denmark.”

“Wasn’t your fault the Prince had the smallest knob,” she said. 

“It’s not the size, it’s how you use it! Although he wasn’t very good at that either unfortunately. But you’d think after seven years-,” Miles pulled on a pair of underwear under his towel.

“It’s just a matter of principle at this point,” she shrugged.

They were fashionably late to the party. Miles wondered at all why his cousin waited for him as she left his side immediately upon arrival and he never saw her again.

“You’re such an arse to leave me here alone by myself for an entire hour,” Nina complained before anything else.

“You’re not alone- Simon is here,” Miles gestured to the man on her left.

“Simon doesn’t count,” Nina informed him and reached for the cigarette Simon was smoking.

“What have I missed?” Miles asked as he surveyed the party. It looked aggressively dull, like whatever was causing the event to be- well- uneventful was a vengeful spirit with malicious intent. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Nina finished off the cigarette and flicked it to the ground, exhaling the smoke with vigor. “Now let’s go cause some trouble, shall we?” she beckoned Miles along with her, Simon trailing after as if him going went without saying. 

Two hours later and they were sitting on the sofa with another round of drinks and still nothing had happened. Miles had made smalltalk with everyone he knew and had been introduced to several new people. Many asked him how his time in America was and if it was true that he was engaged. He said it was lovely and it was true, proudly showing off the ring. Nina kept suggesting fun little pranks they could pull but Miles was uninterested. He really did not feel like getting into mischief. He felt like going home and planning his wedding or looking at different venues for Vincent’s West End show. It was nice, Vincent gave him purpose in ways he had not expected. It wasn’t that Vincent was his whole world now, but an avenue to express a creativity he had always held but never understood. Peter Vincent’s new show would be more over the top than the last but in a different way, losing the camp of the Las Vegas show and increasing the camp inherent to European vampire lore, embracing the history of it and all the knowledge Vincent had picked up on his travels. No one could even fathom how historically accurate this new show would be and they would never understand. Miles spent time pouring over books and renewing friendships with old acquaintances and making new ones. Vincent’s “buddy” who worked on West End turned out to be a sweet old woman he’d stayed with as a recently orphaned runaway. She was a stage manager for a show and took Miles on as an intern of sorts, teaching him everything she knew. Miles loved her and everything about the job. He had a natural aptitude for the drama of stage and for bossing people around. 

Nina snapped her fingers in front of Mile’s face when he’d become expressionless in the middle of her best story. 

“I’m sorry- I started thinking about work again,” he smiled apologetically. 

“You’ve been such a bore since you’ve been back,” Nina told him. “You’re too in love to be interesting anymore.”

Was that true? Had he lost his touch? He was affronted. He liked the person he was when he was with Vincent, physically or not. She rolled her eyes and walked away from them.

“She’s just jealous, pay her no mind,” Simon said and he reached for Miles’s nearly untouched martini and polished it off. “You want to leave?”

“Desperately so,” Miles nodded and he followed Simon out. 

They went for a late lunch or early dinner, depending on which way you looked at it at one of Miles’s favorite restaurants. 

“Sounds like you’ve grown up,” Simon said with no malice in his voice, it was just an observation as easily said as the sky was blue. But it still struck Miles in a way that left him speechless. 

“You think so?” his brows furrowed and he sipped his wine.

“Absolutely,” Simon nodded and cut into his asparagus. “You’ve matured loads since you’ve been away. It’s not bad. It’s natural. Nina is just tired of hearing how well adjusted you've become. She also has a crush on your fiancé. Don’t tell her I’ve said that.”

Miles’s eyes went wide and then he chuckled. “What a match they’d make.” 

“A whole lot of trouble?” Simon asked now working on his steak. 

Miles laughed harder then, “Oh, no. She’d find him exceedingly dull. He likes to stay in.” Miles left out the bit about the fear of vampires. “And have lots and lots of sex.”

“Well, she’d probably like that part,” Simon shrugged. “I think he might look like one of her exes or something.”

“Interesting,” Miles raised his eyebrows. That really was interesting. He wondered who that could be and if he had ever met him and did not recall. He felt like he would remember someone who looked like Vincent. 

“Can I ask you something?” Simon said and he adopted his “down-to-business” voice that Miles had become familiar with from years of knowing him. 

“Of course,” Miles nodded, knowing already what was he was going to ask.

“I know we’ve- I know- _I’ve_ done wrong in the past especially by you,” Simon started. 

“You’re a gossip columnist, darling,” Miles flagged the waiter down for the check. 

“I am,” Simon agreed. “And I was hoping that I- might-.” He cleared his throat. “Get the inside scoop for the wedding of the year next year. I mean, how often does the son of the Prime Minister get married?”

“Gosh, let’s hope only once,” Miles played along. 

“Exactly! So I was- hoping I might get a press pass,” Simon shoved a large chunk of medium-well steak in his mouth so he might stop talking. 

Miles mulled it over. “I’m not sure how terribly public we’re going to make the wedding at the moment, darling, and mummy would be quite cross if you were to be extended any sort of invitation,” Simon looked absolutely crestfallen as he spoke. “But I’m not opposed per say.” 

“So there’s hope?” Simon looked eager.

“A glimmer,” Miles held two fingers a centimeter apart. “I’d have to talk to Vincent, honestly. I don’t think he knows what he’s getting himself into marrying me.”

“Maybe it’s the other way around? Skeletons in his closet?” Simon leaned forward as the waiter set the check on the table.

Miles chuckled and shook his head, “You’re not getting anything out of me. I already had to leave the country once.”

Simon looked awkwardly at his plate. “I suppose I should apologize for that.”

Miles brushed any such nonsense away. “I’d be angry if it hadn’t lead to me meeting Vincent. As it stands- I should just always remember whatever I say to you is on the record.” He winked and handed the check back with his credit card. 

“Any chance we’ll be seeing you at Cynthia’s birthday?” Simon offered by way of olive branch. 

“I’ve got plans,” Miles answered and did not elaborate. 

Leaving Vegas itself had been a task. Despite herculean efforts to keep the trip a secret, wild speculation of the two week break in his show schedule had paparazzi waiting outside his hotel of residence and he had been temporary blinded on his way to the car by flashing bulbs. The flight itself was, but there were no direct flights from Las Vegas to London and so Vincent had to stop in New York City’s JFK airport and all its misery. He wanted to be stoned or drunk or stoned and drunk. To make matters worse, the airlines had lost his connecting flight reservation. He was bewildered as the boarding pass that had been printed when he left Vegas seemed to lose its validity mid-air. 

“Looks like someone pulled a magic trick on you,” the airline attendant said. Vincent had to stop himself from physical hissing at her like a vampire.

“Listen- my fiancé is expecting me and it’s all I’ve been thinking about for four months and I might die if don’t see him so please give me a ticket to get on this plane,” Vincent wanted to cry. He just wanted Miles and a nap and to cry.

“Perhaps, I can be of some assistance,” said a man to Vincent’s right. It was the most dapper dandy in a bow tie Vincent had ever seen.

“How are you here?” Vincent asked astonished. Miles jumped at him and they hugged with a fervor that held the other up and guaranteed they would collapse any which direction given the slightest provocation in their lack of balance. 

“I didn’t want you to have to fly back to the UK by yourself- you told me you wanted me there with you- so I caught a flight here and- here I am,” Miles smiled.

Vincent kissed him in the middle of everything. “You’re going to make me cry in the middle of the bloody airport.”

“There is no time. You can cry in first class on the plane,” Miles grabbed their carry-on items.

“First class?” Vincent looked at his defunct boarding pass that read “business elite.”

“Of course. I had your ticket canceled when it was more expensive to upgrade you. We are seated next to each other,” Miles explained. 

Vincent wasn’t sure how Miles had the authority to cancel his ticket but he did not care at this time and kissed him again. 

When they’d taken their seats, it hit Vincent how truly scared he was. He took Miles’s hand in his own and Miles laced their fingers together.

“I’m here,” Miles squeezed his hand gently. He used his free hand to fish a pill case out of his pocket. “Xanax?” 

“God I’ve missed you, my angel,” they requested a water before the plane even left the gate.

He slept most of the flight, head on Miles’s shoulder and an arm and leg draped over Miles as much as he could with an armrest between them and his seatbelt on. Miles held onto every part of his body he could. When the flight attendant started offering beverages he also brought a blanket over for Vincent. 

“Poor love. Must be absolutely tuckered out,” said the man as he and Miles, with his one free arm, covered Vincent as best they could considering all his unwieldy lanky protruding limbs. 

Miles smiled fondly at his sleeping love. He couldn’t imagine how Vincent must feel headed back after being gone for so long. “Yes, tuckered out,” he agreed. He kissed Vincent’s forehead and the sleeping man nestled in closer. 

They landed at noon on the dot. Vincent stirred as the plane trundled down the landing strip.

“We’ve landed?” Vincent asked blearily. 

“We have, my darling. Welcome back to the United Kingdom,” Miles was sipping the mimosa he’d requested when the flight attended informed him it was his last chance to do so.

Vincent seemed startled into alertness and sat up too quickly. “Oh god,” Vincent looked upset.

“Are you alright?” Miles gulped down the rest of his drink before turning his full attention to Vincent. “Are you nervous?”

“I slept through the whole flight- I left you by yourself on a six hour flight,” Vincent sounded guilty and frustrated with himself.

“I’m glad you got some rest. I was worried your nerves would get the better of you despite the Xanax,” Miles reached for his hand and locked their fingers again. 

Vincent lifted their hands and kissed the back of Miles’s. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Fabulous,” Miles told him. “I read a trashy celebrity autobiography and I,” He looked sheepish, “May have eaten the peanut butter cups you had in your bag.”

Vincent scowled. “How did you know they were in there?” 

“Welcome to London-Heathrow international airport,” the pilot came over the loudspeaker. “It’s just fifteen minutes past noon here, we’ll be taxiing for the next ten minutes or so. It’s a busy day here and our flight team’s home base and we’ll be waiting a few minutes for another plane to leave our arrival gate-.”

“Shame we don’t have those peanut butter cups,” Vincent teased Miles. His stomach grumbled. “Christ, I was kidding but I am hungry.”

“Lucky for you your fiancé stole all the cookies off the snack trolley then,” Miles said, fishing them out of his coat pocket. 

“You stole all these cookies and still you ate my peanut butter cups?” Vincent reached for a cookie but Miles pulled them away. 

“You’re right, I should definitely keep these all for myself,” Miles opened one and popped it in his mouth.

There was a very fancy driver waiting for them near baggage claim and when he escorted them out there was a very fancy car. They managed to get all the way in with the door shut before making like a couple of octopuses and touching each other everywhere. Miles was in Vincent’s lap with both his hands up Vincent’s shirt before Vincent made a motion for them to slow down. 

“Won’t there be photographers when we get out at the other end?” Vincent asked cautiously. They had definitely been spotted at the airport upon there arrival and while no one was there to greet them then, information traveled fast enough that there would be whenever they got where they were going. 

“Not where we’re going,” Miles shook his head and kissed Vincent again.

“Not at the residence of the Prime Minister?” Vincent looked confused.

“We’re going to my flat, my darling,” Miles smiled. 

More confusion from Vincent. 

“I’ve got a secret flat- I wanted it to be a surprise- I’ve been renting it for a couple of months now- it’s closer to Laura and therefor closer to work,” Miles explained. 

“Well aren’t you a smart one,” Vincent teased him.

Miles laughed. “I am a wash of the seven deadly sins, my love. Slothful that I want to sleep in, greedy that I want absolutely all of your time to myself, envious if I’d have to share you and absolutely lustful in a way that I think is very self explanatory,” he scrunched his nose and bit whatever part of Vincent was most convenient, his neck in this instance. 

“What about the three other sins?” Vincent rested his arm over Miles’s hip as the younger man straddled his lap and considered what the other three might be. 

“Wrathful that you’ve asked me that, prideful that I’ve come up with a snarky retort, and gluttonous for your coc-,” Miles started. 

“We’re here, Master Maitland,” the driver called from the front of the car. 

“Thank you, Finley, you’re an absolute gem,” Miles did not move immediately off of Vincent. He kissed him once more, passionately and then stepped out of the car. 

The outside wasn’t much to look at. It looked exactly like all the other buildings in a line on the block, but the inside was a manifestation of his and Miles’s personalities melange-d together. The walls were a dusty blue and the furniture was heavy with dark woods. The sofa was a deep cobalt with cream fur pillows, the kitchen was glass front cabinets with delicate china and Royal Crown Derby bowls, the bathrooms were ornate clawfoot tubs and velvet footstools. But Vincent saw none of this as he was whisked inside. It was all a blur as Miles pulled him into the bedroom and ripped all of his clothes off. 

He was balls deep in Miles when he registered the bedspread being the same sheets he had had back in Vegas. Miles felt so perfect around his cock he didn’t care what the sheets looked like or about the art on the walls. 

Miles was holding onto the headboard for purchase stifling screams of pleasure as Vincent touched him absolutely everywhere he’d been craving for months. This was great sex and Christ how he loved him. It was over too quickly but it had been so long neither could last. 

Vincent collapsed onto him and pulled him close, kissing his ears and neck and the side of his face, anywhere he could reach. 

Miles giggled sweetly, like music to Vincent’s ears. “You’re going to devour me whole.”

“Would if I could,” Vincent nuzzled his nose into Miles’s hair and inhaled deeply. “God, it’s like heaven holding you again.” 

Miles turned in his arms to face him, arms slung low around Vincent’s waist, “Being away from you is absolutely the worst.” 

“Three more months,” Vincent said.

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” Miles shook his head, curls tickling Vincent’s chest. “I don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

Vincent held him tighter. “Do we have to leave this bed?”

Miles looked up at him then and smiled broadly, “Not for the next twenty-four hours at least.”

Only they did get out of bed to order curry from the shop down the road. “Mmmmm,” Vincent moaned obscenely around his fork. 

Miles raised an eyebrow. They were in the living room now wearing only robes Miles had purchased especially for the occasion (“You didn’t.” Vincent had held them aloft. “Yours is the black silk one and mine is the baby-blue butterfly print pattern. They’re our “yay we had sex again” robes!” Miles announced gleefully from the shower.) and gorging themselves after quite a workout. “Do you want the curry need a moment?” 

“We need a room, actually. You were right. I’m going to have sex with this curry- I’m telling you now- to keep everything above board,” Vincent said as he popped a piece of naan in his mouth. 

Miles giggled and leaned in to kiss him. “They don’t have curry like this in the states,” he nodded in agreement as the food was quite delicious and munched on a particularly large chunk of potatoes. “America didn’t colonize and subjugate India in the same way, I suppose.”

“You’re very right, my angel,” Vincent nodded solemnly and he reached his fork into a container of chicken curry before turning his attention back to the laptop. “So explain to me again about the lighting.”

“It’s new technology on broadway- or rather- old technology that keeps improving- you can project the image up like this- and it can track your movements- so you can add even more blood to the show without making a mess everywhere,” Miles cycled through the images so Vincent could see the before and after. 

“That’s fucking brilliant, babe,” Vincent was so impressed and in love he might burst. Miles was opening more files and chattering away about the applications but Vincent was just staring at him. “You came up with this all yourself?”

Miles smiled bashfully, “I just put two and two together. It’s not like I invented anything. Laura and I really want to make something special of your first big London show.”

Vincent kissed him chastely on the lips, “What did I do to deserve such a sweet person in my life?”

“Huge knob, great at sex?” Miles suggested. 

“Those are definitely the reasons,” Vincent agreed.

Miles woke up sleepily the next morning to Vincent’s mouth around his cock. They had soft and slow sex then, taking their time to remember the others body. Vincent had a way of biting at his ears that he cherished so deeply it made his heart swoon. They were absolutely ridiculous and Miles loved every minute of it. 

“Can we stay here all day?” Vincent asked, half asleep again from the exertion of this morning’s activities. 

“We’ve got an appointment at three today to see a wedding venue that I think might be ‘the one’,” Miles did the air quotes and everything. 

“Oooo,” Vincent cooed with his eyes closed. “Is this the one with the terrace that you liked or the frescos on the ceiling?”

“Frescos on the ceiling,” Miles told him and Vincent could tell by his voice that he was delighted and impressed. “It’s more intimate, but I’ve been telling my mother I don’t want something big. She keeps trying to use it as a political thing but I’ve limited her to ten foreign dignitaries and heads of state and they have to be ones that I’ve met so she has plausible deniability if the others are cross.”

“Hmm,” Vincent nuzzled into Miles’s chest, draping over him like a sleepy cat. “Can’t you make it political the other way and invite Elton John or something.”

“He’s already RSVP’d, my darling,” Miles beamed. 

The venue was perfect and Miles had the wedding planner put down the deposit while he and Vincent strolled the grounds holding hands. “I know it’s eight months off but she is going to ask you for your guest,” Miles warned Vincent. “I’ve already put Charlie and Jane down but if there is anyone else at all- well- I’m sure she’ll email you.”

Vincent squeezed Miles’s hand and Miles paused and took a breath for what felt like the first time in hours. “Charlie and Jane will be delighted- and maybe I will invite my publicist or something.”

“Oh, she’s already RSVP’d as well,” Miles smiled. 

“You really are on top of everything, aren’t you?” Vincent asked rhetorically and he pulled Miles in for a hug. 

“Wish I was on top of you,” Miles said very softly into Vincent’s chest hair that was just peeking out. 

“Me too,” Vincent agreed enthusiastically. He took a deep breath looking up at the light gray of the sky and the trees dotting the horizon. It was very pretty and very British. It was strange being back and he said as much aloud. 

“I’ve been so worried it would be too much for you,” Miles held him tighter as if he was scared Vincent might run away or something. “But- I know you’d tell me if it was.” 

“I would,” Vincent assured him. “I’ve honestly not thought about it much. You’ve kept me very busy.”

Miles looked horrified. “Oh my god, I have, haven’t I? I’ve been-.”

“Miles,” Vincent almost never said his name, at least outside of the bedroom. “You’ve been a brilliant host and so very helpful in distracting me from whatever past traumas kept me away.”

“I know it’s a lot,” Miles confessed.

“It is,” Vincent nodded. “But you’re here. And it’s nice. We’ll get through it together.”


End file.
